Behold: more pictures of Nicollet Mall in the 70s, gleaned from that page I found a few days ago. And how's this for synchronicity? At the Strib office I spied a review copy of a book on this very subject, with these pictures.

I miss the red buses. I don't know why they changed to white; it's boring, and blends in with the snowbanks. The red buses could be seen coming blocks away, and they lent the city a distinctive appearance.

Two groups of al-fresco lunchers. Bronson and Young Putin:

No one misses those concrete posts. Chains were slung between them, for extra precarious seating.

WEB Alert: a writer is quitting social media, and perhaps expects social media to notice. If not, here's a piece in BuzzFeed that reminds you of someone who makes a big speech in the coffeehouse to amused or indifferent strangers, then heads out the door, tossing his scarf over his shoulder with dramatic flair.

If social media has left you exhausted and panicky, there may be other issues to consider. On and on and on, the same stammering prattle, the same insecurities:

A point he is proving at great length. You read on, because there has to be a thesis here somewhere, but when the author describes shuddering in a bathroom stall because he has tweetstipation, you only hope there are friends to help.